d towards the window, deep set in the
thick wall. "See how bright and soft everything looks in that pleasant
light; _that's_ better, child, than the finest picture man's hand ever
painted yet, and God gives it us for nothing; and how pretty Snakes
Island glows up in that light!"

The dejected man, hardly raising his head, followed with his eyes the
glance of the old woman, and looked mournfully through the window.

"That island troubles me, Mrs. Julaper."

"Everything troubles you, my poor goose-cap. I'll pull your lug for ye,
child, if ye be so dowly;" and with a mimic pluck the good-natured old
housekeeper pinched his ear and laughed.

"I'll go to the still-room now, where the water's boiling, and I'll make
a cup of tea; and if I find ye so dow when I come back, I'll throw it
all out o' the window, mind."

It was indeed a beautiful picture that Feltram saw in its deep frame of
old masonry. The near part of the lake was flushed all over with the low
western light; the more distant waters lay dark in the shadow of the
mountains; and against this shadow of purple the rocks on Snakes Island,
illuminated by the setting sun, started into sharp clear yellow.

But this beautiful view had no charm--at least, none powerful enough to
master the latent horror associated with its prettiest feature--for the
weak and dismal man who was looking at it; and being now alone, he rose
and leant on the window, and looked out, and then with a kind of shudder
clutching his hands together, and walking distractedly about the room.

Without his perceiving, while his back was turned, the housekeeper came
back; and seeing him walking in this distracted way, she thought to
herself, as he leant again upon the window:

"Well, it _is_ a burning shame to worrit any poor soul into that state.
Sir Bale was always down on someone or something, man or beast; there
always was something he hated, and could never let alone. It was not
pretty; it was his nature. Happen, poor fellow, he could not help it;
but so it was."

A maid came in and set the tea-things down; and Mrs. Julaper drew her
sad guest over by the arm, and made him sit down, and she said: "What
has a man to do, frettin' in that way? By Jen, I'm ashamed o' ye, Master
Philip! Ye like three lumps o' sugar, I think, and--look cheerful, ye
must!--a good deal o' cream?"

"You're so kind, Mrs. Julaper, you're so cheery. I feel quite
comfortable after awhile when I'm with you; I feel quite ha